by L M Feldt
“Stupid pack. Stupid lab.” I lay back and then realize what he’d just said. “Wait, I don’t want you going out there on your own!”
“Shhh, now. I’m not. A group of the elite hunters will go with me. They want to see the scene of the fight anyway. Apparently those creatures sometimes drop scales and the hunters use them as shields when they fish.” He sets the cup of tea back on a small table and tucks the blanket close around me.
“What kind of fish are in this marsh anyway?” But I drift off as the tea takes effect and I don’t hear his answer.
I dream. First the dream is of blue men with six arms fighting long serpents twenty times their size. Great scaled monsters that gape long sharp mouthfuls of black teeth. Then the dream changes, shifts completely. There is a cozy warmth surrounding me and a sense of belonging. I am looking up at someone, someone with unruly black hair like mine and warm tawny eyes. She blinks at me… eyes with a second lid. I see surprise there but love too. I know, instinctively, that this must be my mother. My drugged mind has found a long forgotten memory of her, buried so deep this is the first time I’ve dreamed of her. She smiles at me and then over her shoulder another face appears. This face is masked, like the minders in the infirmary when one of us needed care, as though we could infect them with our mutations somehow. This new face frowns at me, a deep V shape forming between the brows, anger clear in the squint of the eyes as they become pale blue slits.
He yells then to someone I can’t see and disappears from my view. It is a look of horror and resignation that I now see on my mother’s face. Not revulsion toward me, I don’t think, but a reaction to my impending fate. I cry then. Both in my memory as a babe and now in my sleep. There is a wrenching pain, a physical thing and an emotional one, as I am torn from her warm embrace. I hear her shout.
With a scream still in my throat, I wake. Sitting upright, I am instantly aware, like a switch has been flipped. I sit up and braced my hands on my knees, my breath shuttering as I replay the dream in my mind. I don’t question the memory. Two things strike me hard. One, I hadn’t been abandoned at the doors of Keimusho Red Compound like I’d been told. At least one of my parents had loved me. Second, I had seen her second eye lid flick. She was a twist but not living in the Compound. My mother was a twist hiding in society. Who was she?
My anger burns at the injustice of it all and my wings shift against my back. I have been motionless for too long and I am filled with a restless violence that needs to be let out. I get up, stretch, wash quickly from a bowl near the bed and dress.
Upon exiting the small hut I discover it is midday. I have slept longer than I’d thought. I blink my inner lids down and go hunting for a way to let off some steam. I wander the small island the infirmary huts sit on and make my way across planked walkways to another island. I nod at blue people at work, men and women going about everyday tasks, young children running carefree. None seem wary of me or hostile in any way. They smile and nod back. I continue on at a brisk pace. None have tried to initiate conversation but let me pass though their lives, peacefully oblivious to the storm raging inside me. My wings have lifted slightly, I desperately need a way to disperse this craziness inside me.
The sound of weapons clashing is music to me. I hurry toward the sound, widely skirting a group of women weaving and singing. Finally, I get to the arena and it is everything I could have hoped for in this strange and docile place. On it’s own island, men fight each other with the long spears I had seen before. There are knives too and nets. I stride purposefully across the wide boardwalk and approach the sole guard. He takes me in, a long gaze from head to toe, then he grins widely and lets me pass.
I glance around, trying to get my bearings and wondering how to engage a partner when a broad shouldered man spots me. He too gives me a long look and I realize that there are no women fighters. He cocks an eyebrow at me and offers a long spear. I shake my head and point at a pair of fighters using knives. We stand and watch them together and we are not alone. The pair have drawn a small crowd and it appears that some betting is spicing up the sidelines.
The one fighter has darker blue skin than I have seen before, his wiry body toned and lean. He is quick, with good footwork and he fights with only two knives, despite having room for six. The other is a brute and by far the most obnoxious of their kind I have yet witnessed. His face is scrunched up in a scowl and he tries to use his greater mass whenever possible. He has no footwork skills whatsoever but stands rooted like a great tree. He uses six knives and a smug smile suggests a sure win. I notice my companion has placed a bet, handing over small stones and coming back to stand beside me. I look at him questioningly and am surprised when he nods at the smaller man. Interesting.
The sun beats down on the combatants and their bodies are bathed in sweat. It is heady here among these men, the bloodlust is up and it surges through the crowd. There is cheering and an occasional negative sound whenever the larger man tries to kick his opponent. He nearly gets him too but the smaller man manages to twist away just in time.
This enrages the fighter I have come to think of as ‘the beast’. He is covered in tiny nicks though he has six knives and his smaller, unmarked rival has only the two weapons. Then, in a feat of agility and skill, the smaller man leaps, twisting as he does, clear up and over the other man. When he lands there is a large X across the beast mans chest, blood is just starting to well up.
With a roar the crowd goes wild. Spears pound the ground and the men chant the winner’s name. It hurts my ears and my eyes prick from an overload of emotion. It is beautiful and raw. My skin tingles and excitement shivers through me. Here is a fisherman I could fight! My companion waves the victor over, clapping him on the back, clearly happy to have won the bet. They speak briefly and then turn toward me.
“Asurat kinm?”
The winner considers me, one hand on his chin, his eyes twinkling. A showman I decide, a bit of a player who likes the attention and happens to be pretty good too. He nods, accepting the challenge and I grin at him. We step into the ring and a hush settles over the crowd as they struggle with their surprise. Then I hear the soft clinking of stones as money changes hands.
Facing each other now, the winner stands with his two knives, held loosely by his side. I raise one of mine and pointed at his other arms, indicating that he should arm up. He chuckles and shakes his head, pointing instead at the poor defeated beast, larger than me by at least one man. His friends laughed, shoving each other and placing bets, instantly dismissing me as a real threat.
My rage returns in force, a bright, sharp thing that zips down my spine and unlocks my wings. My power hums in barely checked fury. I flex, stretching them out to their full glory. I glare at the winner, my face a mask of intent. Silence had descended as my wings lifted and in the hush, more blades are quickly passed to my opponent.
Twenty
This is how Khane finds me, dusty, sweat covered and in the middle of a fight. It is a good fight too once my opponent losses his jaunty attitude and gets down to it. I don’t give him much choice. I have a few nicks on me and so does he by the time Khane arrives. We are circling each other, so focused I doubt either of us would have noticed if a pre-war bomb hit the island. The shouting is loud as the crowd tries to egg us on but for me the sound just blends into the background.
We are nearly evenly matched. I excel in knife work and he is extremely cunning. He’s tried his signature leap over the head move and I’ve been ready for it, scoring two hits as he passed over. Not an X though. It is fun but we are both tiring, him from his previous match and I am still recovering from my injury. It is time to end this thing and find dinner. I see his foot fly out and I know he is of the same mind, else he wouldn’t have tried such a dirty trick.
I use it to my advantage, spinning into a crouch as his leg comes up. I roll and spring up inches from his chest using my wings to block his arms and knives. I gaze into his dark eyes and draw a small X on his chest with the knife in my hand. The cro
wd goes wild and we jump apart.
I don’t get any congratulatory slaps on the back - my wings are still fully out, but I am handed a bag of small black stones by a grinning bookie. There are a lot of shy smiles and waves. Everyone likes a good show I guess. I am tired but happy. These people are sublime.
“Looks like you have a fan club.” Khane says by way of greeting. Then he kisses me hard on the mouth. It is sudden and I reel when he lets me go. Somehow, though, I suspect he is just marking his territory and it is not flattering.
We turn to join the flow of people off the island and I spot my competitor. Where I might have expected some sense of defeat or anger, instead I see only admiration. He winks at me, waves, and is lost in the press of blue bodies.
We follow the crowd and wind up at the largest party I have ever seen. This is not saying a lot since I have never been to more than a few small, clandestine celebrations back at the compound. This is barely controlled chaos. A huge bonfire lights up the darkening sky and to one side are tables laden with cooked fish and assorted roasted vegetables. One table is set slightly apart and those in line have to pay two stones for a slice of what looks like thick, juicy meat. My mouth waters and my stomach growls, reminding me that I haven’t had solid food for three days. Khane laughs and leads me over, grabbing two wooden plates as we get in line.
The smell is overwhelming. In the compound we were fed a protein composite, a tasteless porridge that required a lot of imagination or starvation to find appealing. I had heard of steak, the guards sometimes liked to talk loudly of their time off and all the things they could do and eat that we could not.
When our turn comes I am surprised to find my sparring partner serving up the sliced meat. He sees me and a wide grin spreads across his face. He slices off a larger portion and places it ceremoniously on my plate, waving away my efforts to pay with the small stones. I dip my head in thanks, turning to leave when I realize poor Khane will be required to pay. I laugh and toss him the bundle of stones, too excited for solid food to wait around. I pass on the veggies, settling down on a long wooden bench to eat my food. Khane joins me with a plate so full I wondered if he hasn’t eaten while I was sleeping.
“Are you trying to win a contest?” I ask as I carved off a piece of meat with my knives, spearing a large, dripping chunk.
“Funny.” He hands me a cup of what appears to be a fermented drink. I wrinkle my nose at the smell. It smells odd and the effervesce tinkles my nose unpleasantly. I set it aside.
Sighing in contentment as the warm juices hit my tongue, I look around for the rest of our group. I spy Aito chatting away with a blue man wearing a silver sleeveless robe. It looks to be crafted from some kind of reptile hide and the scales reflect the light of bonfire, shimmering metallic and the dark red of old coals. Wide armbands circle each arm and a small live winged creature perches on his shoulder. He stands with a cool confidence and I assume this is their leader.
Naoaki sees me and wanders over with her plate of fish and veggies, Micha and Jax in tow. We are all here, all except Ash who had disappeared out on the plains of purple blade grass. I hope he is alright. He seems so childlike in his lack of expression, an innocent, and in spite of his size, I worry.
“No sign of Ash.” Naoaki states, her eyes fixed on her plate.
“No. He may turn up still. He seems pretty resourceful.” I shovel food into my mouth, partly because I am starving and partly to stave off further discussions about Ash. I am beginning to doubt my earlier conclusion that Ash might be Fish reborn. So he sketched a fish shape in the sand? What is that but two curved lines? The ability to find us water is difficult to ignore, however.
Aito has finally torn himself away from his conversation with the leader and comes to join us. He looks more relaxed than I have seen him since we’d escaped the compound. This place and it’s people have had that effect on all of us… except possibly Micha who is as quiet and distant as ever.
“Heranon says that at the center of the marsh is an abandoned pre-war lab. His people are a little superstitious and avoid it like a plague carrier but…” Aito starts when I cut him off with a groan. “What?”
“What? What do you mean what? I know what’s swirling around in that crazy brain of yours. You want to go check it out!” I know how this will turn out. I sag in my seat, the meat suddenly sitting heavy in my stomach.
“If I can get my lab running using whatever additional technology we find there to replace some of the broken parts, I might be able to re-create the elixir that fixed your twist.” He pauses for effect. “We would never loose a friend to their twist again.”
I gulp at the low blow. It is an indirect reference to Fish’s death and immediately wins Naoaki to his side. Where Naoaki goes, so too does Micha. That’s three to one, maybe two if I sway Khane. I wonder at the strange power struggle between Aito and I.
“I thought we were headed to the city of lights?” I say, putting down my half finished plate, no longer hungry. “These people are nice but we aren’t one of them. We can’t stay here.” I want us to stay focused on our goal. It has been hard enough just to get this far. Why invite trouble? If the blue people avoid the abandoned lab, maybe there is a good reason why.
“But what if one of us gets hurt along the way, like you did, like me. With the elixir we won’t be incapacitated or dead.” Aito counters.
It does make sense, he has me there. It’s just… ever since he had uttered the word ‘lab’ I’ve had a vague sense of foreboding.
“How will we get there? If they all avoid it how would we even find it?” I ask, hoping there is no answer.
“Heranon says that your friend over there has been all over the marsh hunting charel, the steak your eating. We could ask him.”
I stare down at my plate, the meat has cooled and congealed, looking too much like the shredded bits of the creature we’d fought out on the grasslands….my appetite is fading fast. I sigh, knowing the fight is lost, probably before it had even started.
“I suppose your going to tell me what a charel is, aren’t you.” He won’t be able to resist sharing that bit of information, no matter that I’d just been eating the creature.
“Oh, they’re a sort of water serpent I think. That’s what it sounded like anyway.” Aito glances down at my plate, abandoned on the ground. “How is it?”
Suddenly feeling the need for some alone time I get up and walked away, ignoring the astonished stares from my friends. Passing the bonfire and the dancing fisher-people I wander aimlessly for a while, not really paying much attention to direction. I cross to another island and walk the water’s edge where the waves laps gently at the pebbled beach. This seems to be the garden island with a mix of plotted rows of vegetables and more free-form walking gardens with exotic flowers. Night has fallen but the moon is out and glows brightly on the water all around. It is peaceful and the fragrances are unlike anything I have ever experienced before. The marsh itself smells fresh and earthy. A slight breeze ruffles my hair. I stand motionless and let the smells, gentle breeze and glittering water wash over me. I decide that when I die I want to be reborn as one of these people. If there is a heaven, this is it.
The sound of soft splashes catch my attention and I stroll further along the beach until I find a small boy skipping stones across the moonlit water, three at a time. I approach slowly, trying not to startle him. He glances my way, takes in who I am, and goes back to his game. He isn’t spooked by my presence so I sit on a low boulder and watch. Most of his throws get maybe four or five skips. Some dive straight into the water without so much as a ripple. Then he throws his stones out with a little extra flourish and gets eleven skips each!
“Nice!” I clap.
“Thanks!” He turns and grins at me.
Twenty-One
“What did you just say!?” Am I imagining things? Maybe the poison is still swirling through my bloodstream, making me imagine things.
The boy stoops to gather more stones, checking them carefull
y for size and shape. He laughs, a loose, easy heartfelt sound.
“Yes. I speak your words, some.” He tosses a couple of stones, watching as they bounce over the silvery water. He is clearly enjoying this new game of ‘bait the stranger’ just as much as his stone throwing game.
“How? How is it that you can speak my language?” A lot has happened in the weeks since escaping the compound and none of it has surprised me as much as this.
“I go to the labs.” He shrugs. “I am curious. I want to see this spirit everyone is so afraid of.” He tosses a stone. “The spirit talks to me. He teach me.”
“You mean someone lives there and they are invisible?” I ask, trying to follow the boys story.
“No.” He laughs, hard. It might be the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “I hit buttons and a face…” He makes an exploding motion with his six arms. “It teach me, the man in the box.”
“Will you show us? My friends and I are going to the island soon.” I still don’t have any idea what he is talking about but I suspect Aito will be able to figure it out.
